Segmentation Fault- OUTLAST: Whistleblower AU
by Metonymicmortal
Summary: Waylon is a sophomore studying computer science. In the middle of the semester he's assigned a new roommate transferring from the Morphogenic Engine Program. He's about to discover why the school is divided... School life AU. Main: WaylonxEddie… Yaoi. Gore, violence, strong language, co-dependent themes, etc. Trigger warnings: abuse, torture, death...
1. Chapter 1

It's difficult to ignore the lack of funding for the Vocational Pursuit Wing of the school especially when you compare it to the M.E Program's immense funding… They're very hush-hush about it, all of it. Anything that has to do with the Morphogenic Engine Program, even the students, are all protected and guarded within the walls of the school. But not the walls of the main building. One glance alone is enough to confirm how much influence the M.E.P has. The students, when seen, are provided for. Well dressed, well fed, they carry the most up-to-date tools and technologies… We rarely see them unless they are in the administration office, fixing their schedules or workloads. That might be because we're completely separated. Mount Massive University, my school, was divided a few years ago. When they introduced the new wing, they expanded the school, the expansion probably dwarfs the original twice over. But students enrolled in the Vocational Pursuit Program have no access to the new wing, every door has a key card access system, alarms and cameras on stand-by.

I'm starting to think it has to do with V.P.P, though. I've noticed since first year, most of the students in our wing are quite odd. I've met problem students in my class. Not just one or two, either. It could be five at a time. They're quiet, they talk to themselves, they react violently to the most mundane events and they all seem to have emotional/physical scars. Perhaps it's gotten to the point where they separated the wings in order to keep damage to a minimum? Like I mentioned before, the school was never clear about anything regarding the M.E.P. So I'm at a loss as to why there's such a huge contrast in general. I'm majoring in computer science, despite the funding issues, the program I'm taking still has a very good reputation. But the facilities are old, the classes are shared, often with other majors… And the technology I get to practice on is rarely up to date. You really have to take initiative to get anywhere in the program. Which is difficult because we're forced to take a full course load per semester. The Vocational Pursuit Wing prides itself on its art initiative. Every major is required to have a minimum of one elective in the arts. So I take literature with my friend, Miles.

My friend Miles is an aspiring reporter and journalist. He can write eloquently, but his horrible attitude and vulgar vocabulary wouldn't suit an author of novels or fiction. Really. He was born to do the job. If you think his attitude suits his career choice, you'd be further validated by his ambition and physique. He's known to be fast enough to infiltrate any building as long as it has a sub-par system. He's flexible enough to parkour, I've seen him do it. It's pretty impressive. I'd also describe him as handsome youth, I'm sure he could talk a woman or two into more than just leaking information if he had any reason to. But he's a career driven man. The only time I ever hear him talk about women, actually, is when he's writing up a story on one. I assume it's just because there are no women in the school aside from faculty.

* * *

At that moment the majority of the class was on their feet, placing their belongings into their 'packs and scurrying out the door at their earliest convenience. I was so deep in thought that I neglected to notice the class had ended. Actually, despite the ruckus everyone was making on their way out, I wouldn't have budged if Miles hadn't called out to me.

"Waylon, what are you doing?" Miles seemed a little peeved, he was ready to go. His laptop bag was already hanging from his right shoulder. His hand was gripping the strap and he was waiting across the room in front of the door. His camera case, as always, was hanging around his neck.

"If you're in such a hurry, you should just leave me behind." I muttered. I started packing my laptop into my bag with one hand and rubbed my face with the other hand.

"I'm not in a hurry." Miles quickly retorted, as if he was accused of anything. "I was patiently waiting for you. Let's head back, already." Miles was mostly impatient in general. I don't think he liked being in one place. I also noticed that during class, he had the tendency to move and fidget a lot. So I normally try to keep up with him and his antics.

"I'm not in a hurry to get back. I'm nervous about the new roommate assigned to my room…" I added. It wasn't exactly what I preoccupied myself with during class, but it was still a valid concern.

"Oh. Right. You told me about that." At that point Miles sported his inquisitive smirk. If you knew him at all you would know that every time he would get involved in something, or interested, his expression would change into this smirk. I could only describe as maybe inquisitive or mischievous. Not only do I have a hard time pin pointing which it is, exactly, but his motivations are equally as elusive. He continues: "It's really too bad they managed to assign someone to you mid-semester like this. I thought you were home free. An entire two-person bedroom to yourself. Man, that would have been so sweet."

I shrugged. "They have to fill the space anyway. But I heard he was a transfer from M.E.P…"

"-Wait. Your new roommate is from the Morphogenic Engine Program?! Maybe I should come with you. I might be able to get some inside information!"

"No, I think he was from the Subject Sub Category. Like the other transfer students…"

"Shit." Miles cursed under his breath. "They don't know anything. I don't even know how they got into the other program the way they are, now. Most of them can't even talk,"

"Miles, I'd rather not gossip. Besides, I don't think they can help it. They seem sick…" I trailed off.

"Well, what are you going to do? You have to go home eventually. We have work to do and the facilities close at 10 pm." Miles walked back towards me, away from the door, and patted my shoulder reassuringly. I must have had a worried expression on my face. "Look, if you're that scared…. If something weird happens, just come stay in my room tonight and we'll talk to Martin about accommodations." Miles stepped back, again, halfway to the door.

"Who knew you were such a softy?" I commented. I secured my backpack to my shoulders and I closed the distance between Miles and me.

"Shut up."

Miles accompanied me until we reached the elevators. His room was on the first floor. Mine was on the fifth. It was time to meet my new roommate. I was almost certain anyone would feel somewhat anxious meeting a new roommate for the first time. I reassured myself that the circumstances were a bit odd already, so my hesitation was justified. But it wouldn't stop me from meeting them with an open mind, I thought. And unlocked the door.

Beyond that door, I found a nightmare. Or, It was what I would expect from a nightmare. The room was destroyed. My heart sank lower and lower with every step. All my clothes had been thrown about and removed from my drawers, my picture frames were broken and shattered. There was a pile of burnt papers on the floor, the blankets were ripped to shreds, the furniture was scattered randomly. It was extremely upsetting. I was speechless and contemplating running back downstairs, as Miles suggested. When I heard the door shut and lock behind me.

"Welcome home, Darling."

* * *

HAHA! SCHOOL IS ON BREAK FOR THE HOLIDAYS AND I HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS FIC FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS IN CELEBRATION. I'm hoping to complete it in the span of a few days.

I hope you guys enjoy what I have planned!


	2. Chapter 2

"Welcome home, Darling."

The time started passing faster as if it was trying to match the rate of my heart. I froze. It was a deep voice, there was something soft about it but the strange lisp and tone was enough to make my hair stand on end. I heard his footsteps, getting closer and closer. I was afraid to look. But I should have. I felt warmth leaning into my back and arms reaching around me. His hands began rubbing my upper body, the right running across my chest and the left was slowly reaching down and sneaking under my t-shirt. I could feel the color drain from my face. Panic consumed me and I instinctively struggled until I finally broke free. Stumbling forward, I sprinted and tripped on the toppled over chair in front of me.

"I'm sorry, did I frighten you? I'm awfully sorry.." I heard. I was face-down, trying to recover from the fall. I felt a light pain in my right leg… The tone in his voice just then confused me slightly. But it was just enough to calm me down and get me thinking, again, despite how terrified I was. His words were so gentle. The situation had me panicking the moment I walked into the room. But this person sounded quite concerned. If he hadn't approached me so shockingly I probably wouldn't be so wary of him. I collected myself as best I could and turned to face him, still on the ground. What I saw instilled more fear than trust. The man was tall, well built, with slicked-back black hair, half of his face was ravaged with blisters, peeling skin, dry blood… His eyes were a striking blue color but the veins were shot. It was a terrifying display. He wore a dirtied white dress shirt, a pair of old pin-striped dress pants with worn work boots. At first glance I didn't notice the oddly stitched patches on his clothes. Actually, at first glance, I first noted his absolute presence above all else. It was as if the world and its functions didn't matter anymore, he was the only thing that mattered in that room. Whether it was because he was the largest threat or…

"My love, you shouldn't lay on the floor like that. You tease me." The man stepped closer. It seemed as if he was offering me his hand for assistance but that was soon corrected when his large, textured fingers wrapped around my upper arms… I wanted to protest but I couldn't manage a single sound. Just a terrified expression. I struggled against him, trying to get to my feet. But he easily pushed me down. His physique would suggest he was strong, but I wouldn't have normally been able to accept how effortlessly he kept me pinned down. It was beyond expectation.

"I know you're just as eager as me to consummate our love. You offer yourself wholly to me, like this, ready to make the biggest sacrifices for my sake… I have to say, you've touched my heart. As deeply as the moment you walked in…" The man continued, softly. It was only a little louder than a whisper. That voice could have lulled me to sleep if it wasn't so out of place. My heart stopped when I saw him release his left hand, only to reach for a knife he had hidden behind his back. I very carefully reached into my back pocket, trying to avoid his attention. I had left my cell phone in there by chance, today.

"I would remove your clothes properly, love. But I only have one free hand. But don't worry, I'll mend your clothes after I mend your beautiful, tender flesh." He said as he sawed into my belt with his knife, leaning into my left shoulder with his right hand.

I managed to slip the phone out of my pocket and onto the ground underneath me. My back was already curved outwards due to some debris on the floor jutting into my back. I had that phone for so long, I already knew my way around it without looking. I muted the volume and pressed call just as the man succeeded to cut through my belt.

"Pesky things. I'm sure you would be better off without so many layers separating us, love." I knew this would be my only chance to call out for help. As he started cutting at the seam of my pants, I clenched my fist and forced my voice to sound.

"W-what are you planning!" As much as it was a question, my heart was beating so fast and my breaths were so short that I could only manage to scream it out.

"Ah, I finally heard your voice. It suits a woman like you…" He smiled and forced the blade up the seam. The sound of thread ripping could be heard. That could only mean that the blade wasn't very sharp. I choked out the words, aware of the response I would probably receive. "I'm a man!"

The man paused. "You're going to be my WOMAN. You're special, that's all." He reassured. But it didn't seem directed to me. That response, it was much faster and more forceful than it was before. I was afraid he would be pushed even further the more I retaliated verbally. A few sobs escaped me, then. I tried my best to keep calm, whoever I happened to call must have caught all of that. It would be impossible to mistake the situation for anything else. They must have sent for help. But the way things are going, I was starting to think I wouldn't survive the wait.

His rough hand ran down my thigh, I could feel the handle of the knife still between his fingers and my skin. He managed to pull down my pants and briefs. I would describe it as mortifying but that wouldn't have done it justice. I tried using my free arm to push him away. But he wouldn't budge. I lifted my hand up further to block his eyes. He placed the knife on the floor calmly but quickly gripped my upper arm. When my hand was removed, an impatient expression revealed itself. His eyes squinted and brows creased… I was never the strong or aggressive individual. Despite how much I needed to be one just then, I was overwhelmed and intimidated. He placed my arm firmly on the ground and leaned his weight over it and me. He did it silently and never broke eye contact. He didn't need to use words to tell me to stay put. It was more effective this way. Because I was rendered completely immobile and every thought of escape left me within those few seconds. When he determined that I understood his demand, he lifted himself and his grip from both of my arms. He picked up his knife with his right hand and held up my testicles in his left hand. I could feel the cold blade come into contact with my sensitive skin. I braced myself for the worst. The room was completely dark to me, despite the fact that light was shining through the window. The world did not exist. My vision narrowed. This was it. I thought I was going to be subjected to some horrible torture and death. But that moment was shattered for both the man and me.

"WAYLON!" Someone screamed outside of the room, there was a loud thud and rattle coming from the door.

It was Miles!

Another, even louder thud came from the door and the man released my testicles. "One minute, my love." The man stood up, knife at the ready. I felt relieved for a moment and before the door burst open, managed to lift my briefs in place. Lifting my briefs was all I could manage, though, I tried to get on my feet but I could only manage to get on my knees. It was a miracle that I could do that much, actually, I was in such a state of distress that my hands and knees were shaking. I felt like I could faint or throw up. So all I could do was watch helplessly as this deranged man held a knife at my heroic friend.

"Do you need something?" The man said with something almost comparable to a growl.

"Waylon! Are you okay?! What the hell happened?!" Miles directed his concern to me. His eyes wandered only slightly before a shocked and angry expression spread across his face. He must have noticed the room's complete destruction at first. Which was beyond me, I was always a cleanly person and Miles knew that much. But then his face twisted into something like shock and realization when he inspected me further. My cut-up belt left next to me, my ripped up pants and position… Maybe I'm over-estimating his ability to analyze the situation. It was only a matter of seconds between his arrival and his confrontation. But his expression changed so clearly, I was almost certain he pieced together everything in his head. It is part of his job to capture a scene and construct a reality from it… The last piece of the puzzle was whatever he overheard during the phone call, I'm guessing. Because he needed no explanation. He was well aware of the dangerous man in front of him.

"Waylon?" The man's tone changed again. He turned towards me quickly, with a warm smile. "Is that your name, honey? Way-lon… Way. You've found your way, already, haven't you? To my arms." He seemed satisfied and turned back towards Miles. "We're a little busy, here." Miles didn't say anything. I wouldn't know what to say, either if I were him. But this was the perfect time to move.

The man was distracted enough. My first attempt to get up failed and I collapsed to the floor. But the second attempt, I had braced myself and stretched out my legs triumphantly. I was on my feet, again. I kicked off my paints to avoid tripping myself. And waited for an opening. The man was walking towards Miles, lifting his knife. I sprinted forward and tackled him to the ground, putting all my weight into it. I managed to catch him by surprise and Miles quickly ran over and wrestled the knife out of his hand. His head rested on its side, as I pinned him to the ground.

"I don't mind it like this." He said warmly towards me. Now that the tables were turned and I wasn't in direct danger, the fact that his behavior didn't change had me conflicted. What was wrong with this man? I wasn't sure if I was disgusted with him or maybe something else… After a few breathing exercises, I calmed myself down. Miles grabbed some duct tape and he held the man in place on a chair as I wrapped him in duct tape…. I used the entire roll of tape. I wasn't even sure that much would keep him secure. Finally, I could loosen up. My shoulders relaxed just a bit and I exhaled.

"Thank god you got here when you did, Miles…" I thanked him. There were no words for the sincere gratitude I had.

"No kidding, if you hadn't called me…" Miles was still pretty worried, it seemed. "Alright well, you should find a pair of pants. I'll start pestering the guy." I nodded. I looked around the room, lifting fabrics and furniture, trying to find another pair of pants. I ended up finding one of my favorite jogging pants underneath the writing desk. It was part of a pile of clothes. But it was the first pair I picked up. Miles already started interrogating the man.

"What's your name? Why did you do this? How did you get in here?" Miles was as intimidating as he could manage. But seeing as miles and I were only young adults and this man seemed to be old enough to be my dad, I don't think the approach affected him at all. In fact, he didn't say anything at all, he just kept his eyes on me the entire time. He seemed perfectly content. Seeing this man, who'd almost…? I was pretty frustrated, I wanted to know that much at least, too. I shot Miles a glance, he didn't look like he would mind. So I started.

"Listen, you owe me this much. Answer the questions." I added. He answered with no hesitation.

"Anything you want to know, my love." He smiled, again. Miles had a pretty disgusted look on his face at this point. He kept glancing over at me to check if I was alright.

"What's your name? Why did you attack me? What is your purpose, here?" I mostly repeated everything Miles asked him. Yet this time the result was different. And I was anything but intimidating or forceful.

"My name is Eddie, darling. You would have seen it on the wedding certificate. I suppose I don't blame you for being anxious-" Eddie began. But I ended it quickly.

"Alright Eddie, you better take this seriously before I get upset and leave you to the cops." Eddie had a solemn look on his face.

"-Don't leave." Eddie said softly. I felt kind pity for him. I decided to reassure him. I figured if anything he would be more cooperative, right?

"I won't leave. But you have to be more cooperative with us, alright? You really crossed a lot of lines and you could have severely hurt me. If you want me to stay, you can't hurt me anymore, okay?" I said, as if I was talking to a rejected child.

"I can wait for you, darling." He replied. So in his mind, he still expects that opportunity to arise? Does he think he now has to earn that? As if it was entirely normal and expected of me? Something about that rubbed me the wrong way. I caught myself wondering if that was how most women were treated… But I avoided getting lost on the subject.

"Alright, so. Start talking… Uh.." I couldn't even remember his name.

"-Eddie, dear. It's Eddie Gluskin. Your future husband." Miles took a step back. He was rubbing his right arm, fist clenched tightly. I think he was getting frustrated with Gluskin.

"Alright, Gluskin. You're going to tell me why you attacked me and what you're doing here."

"I got escorted to this room by a group of people in white lab coats. They locked me in here." Gluskin said, indifferently.

"Why?" This wasn't making any sense to me.

"Well, I remember they were using me for some experiments. I failed to produce the results they wanted. At first they stuck me with the others in that one room, but none of them were women. They weren't even special, my love, nothing like you. I tried to salvage them, make them worth my time. But they would reject me and they just kept leaving me. Dying before I could help them…" He trailed off, this time, he didn't seem the same at all. It was like the entire time he was recalling this, his voice became more and more opposing. The pace quickened and his expression twisted. "They were all useless! Whores, they had no vision for the future, my love! They didn't deserve my love, but I tried to save them! Tried to make them happy. Tried to fix them. But they all died! THEY'D RATHER DIE THAN BE WITH ME!" He was beginning to fidget in his chair, the duct tape was following his movements.

"Gluskin, I don't understand. Where was this? What experiments? Who died?" I held his shoulders, trying to keep him still. He calmed down, it seemed, the moment I touched him.

"You care about them?" Gluskin asked, I swear there was a tinge of jealousy.

"No one deserves to be hurt like that… Is that what… Is that why your face is like that?" I asked, hoping he would say something relevant.

"This, the school, right?" Gluskin asked. I nodded. "Then yes. It's as I said. That building is using people for experiments. It's intruding… It changes people. I thought I was going to die. I just want to be happy, again." Eddie said, but for the first time he broke eye contact. His gaze shifted to the distance, his expression was so sad.

Miles stopped him. "That's enough, you probably don't know anything if you were on the receiving end. We'll look into it. Just don't attack anyone anymore." Eddie didn't respond at all. Miles gestured towards me with his hand. *come with me*

We distanced ourselves from Gluskin. Stopped in the doorframe. Miles had a grave look on his face. "Jesus Christ. Waylon, if they're being secretive about the school's other wing because they're using human subjects to develop something…" He looked down. Based on all the transfer students, the disfigurement, the violence, the event with Eddie Gluskin…. We could only imagine what they were actually doing to these people… "This is fucked up." Miles added.

"We need to do something, Miles…" I said. Of course, I wasn't feeling very confident. I never imagined I'd be in a situation where I was one of the only people who could expose a large-scale collusion involving human experimentation. And the scale of the building, not to mention the length of time in which they've been running this facility for… without any suspicious befalling them… Or maybe without any authority questioning them or opposing them. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. To what extent were they developed, now? How many people are involved for that level of secrecy?

Miles laughed. "This is going to be the fucking story of the century. But even with my skills, your technological abilities and your intelligence, can we really do this ourselves? I know you've already grasped the situation, Waylon."

Ofcourse, we both knew we were in over our heads. But we could at least gather information and provide incentive or proof for secret services to move on them. This could be dangerous, though. Even at that. "If we get just one piece of evidence without getting caught, we can anonymously provide it to the Federal Bureau of Investigation…They could shut them down properly…"

Miles patted my shoulder. "You do that. This is the story of a century. So once we get the FBI going, I'll swoop in and be the first to report the story and pictures to the press. It'll be my great debut. Exposing Mount Massive University's biggest secret! I can see it, already." There he goes, again. I paused. Glanced over to my left.

"Gluskin. Do you want to help us?" I asked. He must want some form of justice, right? Maybe that would also diverge his attention to something more productive and less…. Terrifying.

"If you want me to do something, it will be done." He said affectionately.

Miles cringed. "Tch. If he's sticking around, we're splitting up. He creeps me out."


End file.
